


Brown Eyes

by mxartbotboy



Category: The Mandalorian (LadyIrina AU), The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Our poor sweet Din, Prepare yourself folks, Season 2 Episode 7 Spoilers, Sort of Hopeful Ending, Written and edited in one sitting, post chapter 15, this hurt to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28025094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxartbotboy/pseuds/mxartbotboy
Summary: What if it had been Corin instead of Mayfeld on that fated mission on Morak? What if it had been Corin who was the one to see Din's face and live to tell the tale?This isn't how Corin had wanted this to go.
Relationships: Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/Din Djarin, Din Djarin/Corin Valentis (LadyIrina)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 211





	Brown Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hidden and Revealed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23599798) by [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina). 
  * Inspired by [Chained to sorrow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25538143) by [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina). 



> After the DEVASTATING emotional turmoil that was the most recent episode of The Mandalorian, I simply couldn't help myself. Credit goes to [mochaaaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochaaaa) for the heart breaking idea of a Corin what-if, and inspiring this little scene. Hope you enjoy!

_“We just call him Brown Eyes. Isn’t that right, Officer?” Corin smiled at Din, his heart thudding in his chest. Din locked eyes with him, for the first time, and Corin could barely comprehend what was going on. Before him was something familiar and yet strange all at the same time. All the the while, Hess loomed next to them, a stark reminder of where they were. And yet, for that one moment, Corin couldn’t see anything except the eyelashes along Din’s lower eyelids._

Things were tense in the passenger hold of Slave I. Din sat quietly at the far end, a thousand yard stare bleeding out from his visor. Corin sat at the opposite end, glancing down every once and a while. He would move to stand, and then settle back in his seat, the glow of hyperspace reflecting in his peripheral vision. Fennec had discreetly excused herself to the cockpit, sensing the high tension between the two men since their return from the mining compound, and Cara had mumbled something about joining her. This had left the two of them alone.

Corin felt like he wanted to throw up. Every time he closed his eyes he couldn’t help but see curly hair and shining eyes. It was an image that he desperately wanted to forget, but no matter how long he tried to replace his impression of Din with the shine of a beskar helmet, he couldn’t.

A part of him really had thought twice about walking over when he saw Hess approach Din. Maybe Din would figure something out, maybe he would put his helmet back on and leave. But he didn’t. He had turned with a jerk and Corin had saw. Rooted to the entrance of the mess hall, he saw a face. A face he had thought about for so long that he had given up on ever seeing it. And that was enough for him. He didn’t need cheekbones and eyebrows to know that Din was real, that he mattered and that he loved him.

Bad luck, it had seemed though, was hot on their tracks.

_“So what shall we toast to, boys? I can blather on about ‘to health’ or ‘to success’, but I’d like to do something a little less rote. Where you from, Brown Eyes?”_

_Din didn’t look up from the table, a long pause drawing out until he opened his mouth to say something. But Corin jumped in before Din could speak:_

_“How ‘bout a toast to Operation Cinder?”_

Standing, Corin wavered. Din still didn’t look over, staring straight ahead with his hands resting on his thighs. He was tense, and he was thinking. Not wanting to dwell too much on what he might be thinking about, Corin took one uncertain step after another until he was standing next to the Mandalorian. It was as if he wasn’t there. Slowly, Corin sat down in the seat next to him.

“Din.” His voice rasped, too quiet, but he knew that Din had heard him. His fingers flexed just the slightest against his leg plate, his only acknowledgment, and Corin’s chest ached. He had tried so hard not to look, sitting there at the table with Hess. But he couldn’t help his eyes sliding over, the way they did naturally in conversation, to Din staring blankly at the table, silent. So he had brought up Operation Cinder. He hadn’t meant for it to slip out but it was the first thing that had come to mind, and it was distracting enough that he didn’t have to think about the man falling apart next to him.

He didn’t think it would go like this. Now that they had agreed to be promised to each other, Corin had envisioned some other kind of moment, a happier and warmer one, when vows had been taken and doors closed. It was hushed and loving in Corin’s mind and a future memory that he had been treasuring, patiently waiting to truly be bonded to his beloved Mandalorian. Luck had other plans, it seemed.

“Din, I’m–” He couldn’t bear to look at Din, and so instead focussed on the floor, the rumbling of the ship vibrating beneath them as they sped through space, “I’m sorry, Din.”

“Couldn’t be helped.” The words were practically choked out and Corin knew that Din was lying. If only Corin had gone to the terminal, if only he had braved the potentiality of being recognized by Hess. Corin felt like an idiot, and an utter fool, after realizing Hess didn’t remember him at all, had sat across from him at a table and not once realized who he was. Of course an arrogant man like him wouldn’t remember some lowly trooper. What had Corin been thinking? And now, because of him, Din had taken off his helmet and Corin had seen.

“It could have, though.”

Din shook his head and all Corin could think of was the short emphatic shake, curls dropping against a sweaty forehead and panicked, warning eyes as Hess tried to lecture him on the importance of sacrifice, of how little the people and troopers in Burnin Konn meant. A small flicker, a shadow of the anger Corin had felt in that moment, flared up hot for a moment. A different face had appeared in his memory, Dee’s gray and lifeless one staring up at the sky. Then flushed cheeks and pursed lips. A strong chin and facial scruff. Corin remembered putting Dee’s helmet back on and somehow he wished he could put a helmet back on this.

“I should have done it. I just didn’t,” Corin squeezed his hands together, “I didn’t want to endanger the mission.”

“If you had gotten caught, then we never would have gotten the coordinates.” Corin looked up and the breath caught in his throat when he met a visor, “We did what we had to do for the kid, Corin. I don’t blame you.”

Corin let out a half chuckle, half gasp, “Why not?” He leaned back, his vision growing watery, “You broke your Creed, Din.”

_“You did what you had to. I never saw your face.”_

Words thrown out in a hurry as Corin had shoved the trooper helmet at Din, averting his gaze. He had said it more to get Din to put it back on, to hurry up before more troopers came. For a moment, he had been worried that Din wouldn’t. He had been slow to react when he had shot Hess, a foolish and anger-driven move that risked the both of them. But Hess’ horrible grin and raised glass, inviting them to toast to the Empire, had been too much for Corin and that white hot anger inside of him had snapped.

A coldness settled inside of Corin’s stomach. He had shot all the men in that room, anyone who had seen Din without a helmet. He was the only one remaining, the only one left alive. With surprisingly steady hands, Corin pulled out his blaster and held it out to Din. Din looked at the blaster and then back up at him, straightening.

“You should.” Something hot spilled down Corin’s cheek and he angrily wiped it away with the back of his hand, “Then it’ll be fine, right?”

Neither of them moved. Nothing penetrated the silence except for the noises from the ship, and a laugh that echoed out from the cockpit, reminding them they weren’t alone. Very slowly, Din reached out and wrapped his fingers around the blaster. Corin let his eyes fall shut, taking in a deep breath. But instead of pulling the blaster away, Din pushed it back towards him, gently.

“No.” Din’s voice was quiet but firm, “That’s not an option.”

Corin’s eyes flew open. It was such an easy answer and Din didn’t want to take it? It made everything inside of Corin shrivel up in despair to think that this was the only way, but it was. Kill him and then Din’s Creed would remain unbroken. He ignored Dee’s voice in his head, pleading with him to stay alive. He couldn’t, not now, not when it was hurting the one he loved most.

Corin urged forward, holding out the blaster, “But, Din–”

In a flurry of movement, Din leapt up from his seat, snatched the blaster out of Corin’s grip and tossed it across the hold. It clattered loudly, making Corin flinch. “Corin, I am _not shooting you!_ ” Din snapped harshly, “What are you even thinking?”

“I was just..the Creed, Din…”

With a yell, Din tore off his helmet and launched it across the bay, the beskar slamming into the far wall and bouncing along the floor, rolling in a semi circle until it came to a stop. Din turned on Corin, his eyes wild and his teeth gritted. “There’s the Creed!” he yelled, pointing at the helmet on the floor, “That was it and it’s gone! _Gone_ , Corin!” A hand flew up to his pauldron and he ripped it off, and followed quickly by the other one, “It doesn’t _matter_ who’s dead and alive, that’s it! Everything I’ve committed to is gone!” He yanked off one of his vambraces and he threw it at the floor, before stepping forward and grabbing Corin’s shoulders, “I have _nothing_ except for you Corin.”

Corin stared in shocked silence. Din’s shoulder’s heaved and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. His grip was tight to the point of painful and Corin trembled beneath it, the ring of beskar on durasteel still echoing in his mind. A part of him wanted to looked away from the angry eyes and the set jaw, the part that still told him what he was doing was wrong.

“Don’t,” Din let his head fall forward with a broken sob, landing it on Corin’s. The touch of skin on skin made Corin suck in a breath, “Don’t ever think I would rather you dead.”

For a few moments, they just stood there. Din’s grip loosened, until he was more clutching at the folds of Corin’s shirt than anything else. And Corin realized what a big mistake he had made.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently, “Din, I’m– I’m so sorry.”

With guiding hands, Corin helped Din sit again. He seemed reluctant to let Corin go, but his touch slid from Corin’s shoulders and he watched as Corin bent down to gather up the dropped pieces of armour. The vambrace, and then the two pauldrons. Corin let his fingers trace over the mudhorn before picking that up too and straightening.

“Here,” he handed the pieces to Din, meeting his eyes, “Put these back on.”

Din hesitated for a moment, holding the armour in his lap and regarding them soberly. Perhaps, for a moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t. But then he slid the vambrace back on and Corin breathed out, turning to retrieve the helmet. It was heavy in his hands and achingly familiar. Corin stared down at the visor, his own face reflected in it. How many times had he looked at it like that? Many more, he thought to himself as he returned next to Din, who was affixing the second pauldron back in place.

Gingerly, Corin lifted the helmet up and Din retreated, backing off from it.

“It’s okay,” Corin said softly, “Let me.” And he lowered the helmet back onto Din’s head, the locking mechanism hissing as it fixed into place. Corin held his hands there, cupping the sides of the helmet with his hands.

“It’s not the same,” Din said, his voice crackling through the modulator.

“I know.” Corin grasped one of Din’s hands and pulled off the glove, intertwining their bare fingers, “I know.”

They stayed like that for a bit, holding hands and breathing. The tension in DIn’s shoulders had relaxed a bit, but he still held himself stiffly. Streaks of light reflected off of his helmet and Corin let his gaze wander over it, admiring the shine and the curve of the beskar. Din had really always been beautiful to him, just like this. And so deserving of the title of Mandalorian. Corin wondered if Din would ever think that again.

“What am I going to do?”

Corin had never heard Din sound like he did just then, a heart wrenching mix of shame and fear. Again, Corin wished he could do something. Put the helmet back on, turn back time, anything. But he knew that it wasn’t that simple. He squeezed Din’s hand, “Whatever you want. If you won’t tell I won’t, But,” he said as Din jerked his head up, “If you choose to live your life differently as a Mandalorian and not by the Creed, if that’s what feels right to you then. Then I’ll be here with you.”

Din sighed, long and heavy, “I just want the kid back.”

“Me too, Din. Me too.”

Reaching forward, Din wrapped his arms around Corin and brought him in close, burying his helmeted face in Corin’s shoulder. Corin hugged him back, as tightly and as reassuring as he could muster. And in that moment, Corin allowed himself to think of Din’s face. It had been angry and sad, yes, but in his memory Corin saw curly hair. He saw scruff and scratches.

He saw brown eyes.

They would figure something out.

**Author's Note:**

> There it is! I wrote and edited this in one sitting, so forgive any messy writing, but I just couldn't help myself this time. I tried to end it on a slight up- at this point I don't know how the show is going to go, but especially with Corin, I think Din would be able to recover from this. 
> 
> Poor Din, let us give him a hug challenge T-T
> 
> find me on tumblr at [mxartbotboy](https://mxartbotboy.tumblr.com), come say hello!


End file.
